The Spirit of Birthday Presents
by Tabitha12
Summary: Jonathan Muir tries to find the perfect birthday present for Captain Gregg's first birthday party in 100 years.


_**Title: The Spirit of Birthday Presents**_

_**Author: Mary **_

_**Rating: PG**_

_**Summary: Jonathan tries to find Captain Gregg the perfect birthday present for the Captain's first birthday party in one-hundred years.**_

_**Disclaimer: The characters from 'The Ghost and Mrs. Muir ' belong to 20th Century Fox and David Gerber productions. No infringement is intended, no profit made, and they will be returned unharmed from whence they came. This story is for enjoyment only.**_

_**"All other characters, plots, storylines and development of GAMM characters belong to the authors of this story and may not be used or changed without express written permission.**_

_**Much, much thanks to Chantal C and Susan G for the edits and all their encouragement and for not letting me give up and wait until next year! Happy Birthday, Captain Gregg — and Edward Mulhare!**_

_**Mary**_

**The Spirit of Birthday Presents**

_**March 27, 1970 - Friday** _

"Here you are, Mrs. Muir," Claymore Gregg said, placing a small chest in front of the beautiful woman in front of him. "Didn't I tell you I'd found something unique?" There was a self-satisfied look on his face. "Of course, by all rights this should entitle me to more . . . recognition, shall we say?" and the man preened. "I mean, can't you just see it? Fame! MY picture on the dust jacket of the memoirs! Full sized, of course, and in color, naturally! Captain Gregg's only living descendant . . ."

"Claymore . . ." Carolyn said tiredly, marveling at the persistence of the man before her, "You know perfectly well that Captain Gregg will _never_ publicly acknowledge you as his descendant! Besides, we've been through all this. I really don't think putting your picture on the dust jacket is such a terrific idea. These are the Captain's memoirs, not yours."

"I could wear the beard again," said Claymore. "You did tell me once it did things for me."

"I did not!" Carolyn said, indignantly. "I told you that you looked _handsome_," she continued, grimacing. "One could hardly look worse in full Naval regalia . . ." Carolyn paused, recalling the waltz she had shared with Daniel Gregg, albeit in Claymore's body, the night of the Centennial Ball the previous September. " . . . And the beard helped too, of course, and yes, you did look nice, but Claymore, I've told you before, these are CAPTAIN GREGG'S memoirs I'm writing, and I'm not going to get ANYTHING written sitting here arguing with you."

"How about a small picture? You know, inside the dust jacket?" Claymore asked. "You did promise to dedicate . . ."

"How about we don't make any more decisions about _anything _along these lines until a publisher offers me a contract and an advance on the memoirs, or buys the book after the Captain and I have finished writing it?" Carolyn interrupted him. "YOU have a one track mind! Whatever happened to 'family pride, loyalty and affection'?"

"I'll take fame and fortune any day of the week," said Claymore. "Preferably NOT in that order."

"Where did you find this chest, anyway?" Carolyn asked. "I thought that Dan . . . " Carolyn stopped, choosing her words carefully. ". . . Captain Gregg wouldn't let you steal . . . liberate . . . that is, _take _anything else away from Gull Cottage."

"Well, actually, if you MUST know, I didn't ste . . . that is, take it away," Claymore shrugged. "That chest has been bouncing around my office for ages, moving from one place to another. I inherited this building, along with my business, more than fifteen years ago. I think, perhaps, my late uncle on my mother's side MAY have removed it from Gull Cottage, but I won't swear to it. But as for the chest, it's been locked, you see. I didn't have a key for it, and I just never felt like spending the money to have a locksmith get it open."

"How did you figure out the chest really belonged to Captain Gregg?" Carolyn asked, intrigued.

"Oh, well, I was cleaning out the basement the other day, trying to find another filing cabinet I could use, and that's when I ran across it."

"But you said it was locked." Carolyn frowned.

"Yes, but you see, actually, I knocked the chest off a shelf, and it fell, and the lock sprang open, spilling all the papers and things on the floor."

"Ahh," said Carolyn. "That would explain it."

"Anyway, I, well, I did look through the papers . . . quickly," said the landlord, giving her a sheepish look. "I'm within my rights! The chest really is legally mine after all — As the only surviving Gregg!" Claymore shrugged again. "Unfortunately, there were no bonds, or stock certificates, or deeds, or anything valuable, I swear. Just a few old papers, personal letters, a Bible, and a quill pen. But when I saw Captain Gregg's name in the front of the ship's log, I stopped looking, and called you. I figured you could use them for the memoirs." Claymore smiled. "You know — more reference material! And just to show you my heart is in the right place, I'll only charge you a small handling fee . . ."

_"Claymore!"_ Carolyn cried, astounded at her landlord's nerve. "Surely you don't expect me to pay you for something that will ultimately benefit you as well as me!"

"Just a small amount, really . . ." Claymore stated. " . . . Ten dollars? A brokerage fee, one might say."

Carolyn stood and picked up the chest, holding the treasured object close. "Claymore," she said firmly. "I am taking this chest with me. I suggest that if you want to collect your fee, you come right out to Gull Cottage and tell Captain Gregg all about it. I am sure he will be happy to oblige you. After all, they're his memoirs, remember? His book — his 'brokerage fee.'" Carolyn gave the land baron of Schooner Bay a sweet smile. "Now, if you will excuse me, I need to go help Martha finish the grocery shopping, and then we're picking up the kids from school." She made her way to the door, unchallenged by the younger Gregg. He knew when he'd been beat.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Carolyn Muir sat in the corner diner, taking deep breaths to calm herself. _The very nerve_ _of that . . . that _—_ pipsqueak! _She fumed. _But finally, finally, I bluffed him out of the pot!_ She gave the little chest a pat. _Daniel is going to be thrilled! _Her thoughts continued as she stirred a teaspoon of sugar into her coffee, and she smiled her satisfaction. Despite what she had told Claymore Gregg, she wasn't due to meet Martha for another half an hour; and the children not for another ten minutes after that. A blessing in disguise really. Two great events in one day! No grocery shopping, a task she hated, AND a chance to go through the contents of the chest at her leisure. Who knew what treasures lay just under her fingertips? _And I don't have to feel the least bit guilty about taking_ _this all-too-rare free time to peek at the contents!_ Carolyn thought, for since the night of her parent's anniversary in March, Daniel had given her free reign to prowl, poke and prod through any of his possessions that she wished, (including his sea chest!) to gather information and materials for the memoirs.

_Daniel's permission can't have come at a better time; all things considered,_ she thought, and taking another swallow of coffee, she opened the chest in front of her and smiled again. _I can't decide what means more to me. Daniel being so open about sharing his history and private possessions, or the fact that finally, after more than two years, he has almost completely stopped calling me 'Mrs. Muir' and finally started calling me Carolyn, and expects me to call him Daniel in return!_

At the top of the stack, as Claymore had mentioned, lay a ship's log. Opening the pages carefully, Carolyn gasped slightly as she recognized Daniel's fine copperplate handwriting and the date: March, 5, 1865, and read:

'_It is with mixed feelings indeed that I begin this ship's log, this log of the ship Morvoren, my last command . . .'_

Carolyn stopped._ This is it! Daniel's final logbook! How many times has he prowled through the wheelhouse of Gull Cottage looking for this very volume — swearing as only a seaman could that he had NOT lost it? What a discovery! _She closed the cover of the book, determined not to read any further. _After one hundred years, Daniel should be the first to read this, _Carolyn thought, exhilarated beyond reason. _He is going to be ecstatic!_ Carefully, she set the book aside and reached for the next item in the chest — A packet of letters, all addressed to Daniel Gregg; the return address being Ida Johansan, Schooner Bay, with dates on the envelopes ranging from the year 1837 to 1844.

_Hmm . . ._ Carolyn paused and signaled the waitress to refill her coffee cup. _Well, it's not Kathleen or Vanessa at any rate, the date's wrong! He's really young when he's getting these letters . . . I think! I wonder if . . ._

Carefully, she opened the first letter in the faded ribbon-bound packet. _"My Dear Nephew . . ."_ The first began. Carolyn stopped reading and, slipping the letter back in the envelope it came from, smiled. _I was right! They're from his aunt! Daniel's Aunt Ida! _And shethought back to the week before. They had started writing a chapter on the Captain's youth, the seaman accounting, matter-of-factly, his mother Cassiday's death in childbirth when he was eight, losing his father to the sea he had loved when he was nine, and the three years he spent living with his Aunt Ida until he ran away to sea himself at the age of twelve.

Carolyn had asked if his aunt had tried to chase him down and bring him home when he ran away. "I certainly wouldn't have put up with Jonathan trying anything of the sort!" she had said indignantly. "What did your aunt do when you ran away, Daniel?"

Daniel had smiled then. "Probably thanked heaven there was no one around to bring home stray animals to take care of, and track dirt on her floors." And he lit his pipe. "But she knew the sea was what I wanted, and it was where I was truly happy. My Aunt Ida wrote to me every Sunday for seven years. I was at sea when she died. I knew something had happened when her letters stopped coming." For a moment, Carolyn thought, the Captain actually looked pensive. "It was a bittersweet year all around," he said quietly. "My aunt, and last surviving relative passed on, but it was also the year I got my mate's ticket."

He had stopped dictating at that point, Carolyn remembered, although it was still early in the evening, and he had excused himself and disappeared, not to be seen or heard from until the following morning.

Carolyn shuffled past the other miscellaneous letters and papers in the chest, her hand coming to rest on the Bible at the bottom. _This HAS to be the Bible Claymore was talking about! Family Bibles are treasure-troves of information . . ._ Moving her coffee aside gingerly, lest she accidentally spill it on the precious object, she opened the front cover to the flyleaf, where she read _Gregg_ _Family Bible,_ in a flowing script. Carolyn exhaled slowly. _This should be under glass! _She thought, as she carefully turned another page. Slowly, she drew in another lung full of air and held it.

At that moment, a teenage boy Carolyn recognized as George, the eldest of the Gilbert children, opened the front door of the diner, letting in a sudden gust of air, and folded sheet of vellum fluttered from the Bible and hit the floor.

"Blast!" She fumed as she made a dive for the paper. "All I need to do is lose or damage something here!" She seated herself again and carefully opened the folded sheet and saw:

_**Birth Certificate**_

_**State of Maine**_

_**It is hereby certified that**_

_**On the eighth day of April, in the Year of our Lord, 1825, AD**_

_**In the city of Schooner Bay,**_

_**Cassiday Gregg, wife of Joseph Elias Gregg, gave birth to**_

_**Daniel Elias Alexander Gregg**_

"_Oh dear Lord . . ._ " Carolyn gasped. _"It's here. We've found it at last!"_

"Mrs. Muir, are you okay?" the waitress asked, hovering over the table. "Is there anything wrong? Something I can do for you?"

Startled, Carolyn pulled her eyes away from the document she was holding. "Excuse me, Freda, did you say something?" Her gaze once more shifted to the precious piece of paper in her hand.

"I asked, for the _fourth_ time, is there anything wrong? You writers! Lost in your own little world!" The waitress topped off Carolyn's coffee cup once more. "It's all right dear. It's just that you hadn't moved a muscle for more than five minutes. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Can I get you anything else? A cinnamon roll maybe? We have some pretty good pecan pie left. It's still fresh! Wouldn't you like some? You need to keep up your strength!"

Carolyn gave the matronly woman a dazzling smile. "Why not Freda? I'm celebrating! Pecan pie it is!"

Carolyn took another bite of her pie, letting the flavor roll over her tongue and reflected on the conversation that she and Daniel Gregg had concerning his birth date only two days before:

"You know, Daniel, the children told me last November that they asked you when your birthday was and you couldn't remember — that you could remember the day Aaron Burr shot Alexander Hamilton, and the day of your encounter with a killer whale, but that you couldn't remember your birthday. Were you joking with them? Did you say that because you were still upset about Jonathan's birthday and all the noise?" she asked, "Or are you like Martha, and consider your birthday to be a state secret?"

"No, my dear. I really don't remember when it is."

Carolyn looked at him, aghast. "How could you forget something like that?"

"It's really quite simple, Dear Lady. In the last one-hundred years there has really been no reason to remember it."

"But . . ."

"You must remember, Carolyn, that until you and the children and Martha came to Schooner Bay, I 'lived' at Gull Cottage in more of an 'out-of-time' status. I _existed_, not lived, as in your knowledge of the word, and I'm afraid I can't explain that state-of-being any further until you pass over into this world, and even then, that's not a promise." The seaman paused, and rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "I kept strangers away from my home, but I abided at Gull Cottage, in some ways, as a man in prison, in solitary confinement, one day, one season being more or less like another. In a sense I was existing in a protracted time state. Sometimes I was aware of the years changing, and occasionally I gleaned knowledge of world events, wars and all, but . . ." He paused. "Not LIVE, and thus, not really know — or care any longer when my birthday was." "Also," he added, "Even when I was alive, I was most likely on board a ship more often than not when my birthday came around. On sailing ships that carried two-hundred men and more, one simply didn't make allowances for birthdays and cakes and parties and presents, even when I was alive, and . . ." he paused. "To my eternal regret, I am no longer alive, my dear, which means, of course, that I could not be celebrating the anniversary of my birth and another year of being alive, because I am NOT alive. My birthday stopped being important to me more than ninety years ago."

"But you remember the day you died . . . " Carolyn began.

"Ah, but that's different," the Captain answered. "It's a psychological fact. The human mind is much more likely to remember the exact day, date and time of unhappy events in their own history, which is why I can still remember the dates my mother, father and aunt died, as well of course, as myself."

"Oh Daniel . . ." Carolyn started, and then bit her tongue and stopped speaking, knowing how much the seaman hated to be pitied. Swallowing, she continued, trying to keep the situation light. "So you really weren't teasing the kids?"

"No, Dear Lady."

"Well, we will certainly have to figure out when your birthday is before your memoirs are published. The readers will want to know, and it will make for a better chronicle of your life."

"If it is at all possible, by all means," the Captain agreed. "Of course, if we can find out, I suppose the day I was born should be included, but if not, I am sure that the other tales I have to tell will more than make up for missing that one insignificant fact."

"Hardly insignificant, Daniel."

"I consider it much more important that I am here now with you and Candy and Jonathan," the spirit said tenderly.

"Oh thank-you!" Carolyn said softly, "Still, the whole thing . . . it irritates me. You were a hero in this town. You lived here. You LIVED! We even proved your death wasn't a suicide . . ." Carolyn's voice trailed off, both embarrassed and depressed, as she usually was when the subject of the Captain's existence arose. It was still hard for her at times to fathom that this vital, alluring, incredibly attractive man . . . Spirit . . . MAN in front of her was merely an illusion — and that the REAL Daniel Gregg had lived and died before her grandparents were born. _It's so unfair! _She thought. _Daniel Gregg is more ALIVE than most of the living men in this little town! If only . . ._

Carolyn had let the matter drop at that point, but ever the writer, her mind used to ferreting out details, the niggling thoughts surrounding Daniel Gregg's birth date would not entirely go away.

"Earth to Mrs. Muir . . . Carolyn Muir, come in please!" said Martha Grant, in a louder than usual voice.

Carolyn looked up at the sound of her children's giggles. "Martha?" Carolyn glanced first at her housekeeper and then at Candy and Jonathan. "Is something wrong?" She looked at her children suspiciously. "Are you two in trouble with Miss Stoddard again? What are you doing here? School won't be out for another half an hour."

Jonathan and Candy gave their mother an incredulous look. "Half an hour? Mom! Please! It's three thirty! School has been out for fifteen minutes!" Jonathan exclaimed, crawling into the opposite side of the booth where Carolyn was sitting.

"Yeah, Mom," Candy added. "We found Martha at school, waiting for us, but not you. Anything the matter?" and she scooted into the booth beside Jonathan, placing her schoolbooks beside her brother's on the seat.

"I have to say, Mrs. Muir, I was getting worried," Martha added, sitting down next to her employer. "Then I remembered that the coffee shop was just around the corner from Claymore's office, and figured you might have ducked in here."

Carolyn flushed and smiled. "You're right Martha. You know me too well, I think! I did come in for just a minute, I'm afraid, and I . . . well, I lost track of time. I'm really sorry you guys . . ."

"That's all right Mrs. Muir," answered Martha. "From the look of things here, you are deep into another writing project! All these papers!" She picked up the quill pen. "Why on earth are you working on it here instead of at home at Gull Cottage?"

Carolyn's green eyes lit up and she signaled for Freda. "I'll tell you in a second — first though, order anything you want to drink and . . . Jonathan? Candy? Would you like some ice cream? We're celebrating!"

"Would I!" exclaimed Jonathan.

"Groovy!" Candy said at the same time. "Wanna share a banana split, Jonathan?"

"Sure! Can we each get a cherry pop, too, Mom?" and Carolyn nodded.

"Just coffee for me," Martha told Freda, who jotted their orders down on her pad and left to get their drinks, "What are we celebrating Mrs. Muir?"

Carolyn lowered her voice and held up the folded copy of Daniel Gregg's birth certificate. "I have made the greatest find since the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls."

"Huh?" Candy asked.

Jonathan sighed. "Girls! The Dead Sea Scrolls! They're a collection of about 600 Hebrew and Ara . . . something manuscripts. They were discovered in a group of caves in Jordan near the Dead Sea during some kind of dig in 1947. That's how they got their name."

Carolyn blinked. "Did Miss Drew tell you about the Dead Sea Scrolls, Jonathan?"

"Heck no," Jonathan answered as Freda returned to the booth with their drinks. "I don't learn really neat stuff like that at school! Thanks Freda!" Jonathan watched as the waitress left and started to clear a table at the other end of the room. "Captain Gregg told me," he whispered, "He knows _everything!"_

"Well, not _quite_ everything!" Carolyn grinned, waving the paper in front of her demurely, like an antique fan. "I know a few things Captain Gregg doesn't know!"

It was the children's turn to look surprised. "What's the paper, Mom?" Candy asked curiously.

"You're not going to believe it! I can hardly believe it myself!"

"WHAT?" the three asked together, just as Freda came back with the children's banana split.

"Thanks again, Freda!" Carolyn smiled at the waitress, and watched her leave.

"Mom . . ."

"Mrs. Muir . . ."

Carolyn took a deep breath. "I found the Captain's birth certificate!"

There was a pause and then they all started talking at once.

"Mom, where . . ?" said Candy.

"That's what was in here?" asked Jonathan, reaching toward the chest.

Martha moved the chest from the boy's reach. "Jonathan, you're eating ice cream. Sticky hands! Better wait until you are done with your dessert!" And the housekeeper turned to Carolyn. "Mrs. Muir! This is wonderful! Where on earth . . . ?"

"Claymore had it all the time!" Carolyn said triumphantly.

"Figures," said Martha glumly. "His files are a mess."

"Oh, the birth certificate wasn't in his files, it was in this chest he had in the basement of his office." Carefully, Carolyn put the other items on the table back into the chest, keeping out the birth certificate, and then closed the lid. "I don't know how long the papers and things have been in the chest, but Claymore said he's had it in his basement for at least fifteen years." Carolyn took another bite of her still half-finished pecan pie. "But WHERE I found it isn't nearly as important as —"

Jonathan cut Carolyn off in mid-sentence. "Mom? WHEN is the Captain's birthday?"

"Yeah, Mom," Candy voice joined with her brother's. "When?"

Carolyn smiled at her progeny. "I thought you'd never ask. April 8, 1825."

"Gee," said Candy. "That is old. That means he's . . . forty-four?"

"Wow . . ." said Jonathan, then he looked at his sister. "That's not right, Candy! That means this year the Captain is . . . a hundred and forty-five, right Mom?" and he turned to Carolyn.

"Well, technically both of you are right," said Carolyn. "Captain Gregg did die when he was forty-four, but yes, April 8th will mark Captain Gregg's one-hundred and forty-fifth birthday. My question is, what are we going to do about it?"

"Well, we have to have a party!" said Jonathan, now bouncing in his seat, the banana split forgotten. "We messed it up last time!"

"Yeah, Mom," Candy agreed. "We really did."

Carolyn gave them a narrow look. "Kids, we had a lovely party for the Captain . . . once he finally made it to the party, that is!"

Martha, who had been listening quietly, snapped her fingers. "Sometimes I feel I will never catch up on the last two years!" she said, grinning. "That party last November! You weren't humoring these two! There really WAS a birthday party for the Captain!" Martha looked at Jonathan and Candy, and then at Carolyn. "Why did you give him a party in November, if his birthday is in April?"

"Long story, Martha," Carolyn said. "But listen, we . . ."

"Claymore got the date wrong, Martha." Jonathan explained. "Candy and I went to see him last November to find out when the Captain's birthday was, 'cause the Captain couldn't remember it after a hundred years, and he gave us the wrong date."

"Yeah, Claymore gave us the date the Captain died!" Candy said with disgust. "I mean, really! I'm so glad I didn't find out until after the party! I was so embarrassed!"

"How did you find out it was the wrong date?" Martha asked.

"Captain Gregg told Mom after the party, and Mom told us a couple of days later," Candy explained. "We were planning another surprise party to make up for the one we missed in 1968."

Martha grinned at the two. "Well, that was sure sweet of you!"

Carolyn held up her hand. "Far be it from me to stop this 'remember when' conversation, kids, but we haven't got much time before Captain Gregg starts to get worried, and comes looking for us. Now just what do you want to do about a party and presents? We only have about two weeks to get everything planned and surprise him." She looked at the children's eager faces. "I take it we do want to make it another surprise party?"

"Oh, yeah!" said Candy. "It _has_ to be a surprise!"

"Yeah but, Mom . . ."

"Yes, Jonathan?" Carolyn turned to her son.

"Well, it's just, that . . . that we're going to have the same problem we did last November. . ."

Carolyn nodded and turned to Martha again. "Jonathan's right. We had a heck of a time keeping our surprise party just that — a surprise," she explained. "You know, because we never really know when he's around!"

"Well, remember, Mom, him being upset about all the noise at Jonathan's party and making us that schedule of where he, and we, could be when, helped," said Candy, and she grinned. "Mom made him stick to it Martha! If she hadn't done that, we NEVER would have been able to get anything planned last time! Scruffy helped a lot too," Candy continued. "He always knows when the Captain is around, and warns us. But, Mommy . . ."

"Yes, Candy?"

"If we try to plan the party the same way we did last time, the Captain will be sure to figure it out."

"Candy's right, Mom," agreed Jonathan. "And I don't think you can make him follow that schedule again either."

"Candy and Jonathan have a good point, Mrs. Muir," said Martha. "Frankly, knowing what I know about him now, I'm amazed you were able to surprise him the first time around, him being a ghost and all." And a gleam came to her eye. "But I guarantee you, that ghost can't tell one cake from another. All he ever wants from me after I've baked one is a taste of the batter from the bowl, a nip of frosting, and a piece of the finished product. I'm telling you, I could bake his birthday cake in front of his nose and he wouldn't think anything of it — as long as I don't try to keep it a secret."

"Martha's right too, Mom," added Jonathan. "I think we ought to just surprise him by not trying to plot everything all together."

Carolyn looked at her son. "And just how do you think we can do that?"

Jonathan sighed impatiently. "We each do our OWN thing. By ourselves. You figure out what you want to give him and work on that, and I'll figure out something, and Candy and Martha, but not talk about it at all at home, and then, on his birthday, we'll surprise him with a party and everything. All you will need to do extra is get some party supplies and then and hide them somewhere, and then decorate the house on April 8th. We'll just have to get him out of the house for a little bit."

Candy nodded. "I get you! Something I can make or do myself? I have an idea already!" Impulsively, she threw an arm around her brother's shoulders. "You know, sometimes you get some really smart ideas, Jonathan!"

The boy grinned at his sister and then turned to his mother. "So it's okay with you too? Candy and I can work out our own presents for the Captain, and you and Martha do your own presents, and the cake?"

Carolyn smiled at the boy's enthusiasm. "What about decorating Gull Cottage? We'll need to hang streamers and balloons, and we need to get the Captain out of the house to do that."

"I have an idea," said Martha. "It seems to me, I remember an old _Dick Van Dyke Show_ episode where they surprised Rob Petrie with a party at ten o'clock in the morning. Not that we would do it in the morning, but we could do the same thing they did! They decorated the same time they yelled "surprise" — just by taking the streamers and running them from one end of the room to the other. The place was fixed up in just a couple of minutes."

"That was television!" Carolyn said with a grin. "This is real life here."

"We can do it, Mom," Jonathan coaxed. "Please? I know we can handle it. I wanna do this for the Captain."

"So do I," Candy added. "Please, Mom? What do you say?"

Carolyn reached over the table, smiled, and ruffled her children's hair. "What do I say? Well, what do you think I'd say? _Let's go for it!"_

**_March 30, 1970 _—_ Monday_**

Candy Muir watched her brother, his head lowered, sitting in the swing at the other end of the playground. He hadn't moved in more than ten minutes. Finally, not being able to stand looking at his dejected figure any longer, (or the suspense) she excused herself from her lunch-mates Linda Coburn and Penelope Hassenhammer, and made her way across the sandy playground to where her brother was sitting, and she dropped down in the vacant swing next to him. "Jonathan?"

No answer.

"Jonathan?"

Still no answer.

_"JONATHAN!"_

"Huh?"

Candy sighed. Her brother was a million miles away. "You okay?" she asked, quietly.

"Yes."

"I don't think so . . ." she responded promptly. "Can we try it again, please?"

"It's nothing, Candy."

"Yes, it is," she argued back. "Come on, Jonathan, I haven't got all day. Lunchtime will be over in another fifteen minutes or so. Now really, what's the matter? Has Danny Shoemaker been bugging you again?"

"No . . ." He shrugged. "Danny and I get along fine now — 'specially since he became first string catcher for the Oysters."

"Is there someone else picking on you?" Candy asked. "We could tell Mom, or talk to Captain — "

"Blast it, Candy! No one is bothering me!"

"Well something is, Jonathan!" Candy fumed. "And if you don't tell me what it is, I'm gonna have to beat you up, or tell Mom that something IS the matter!"

Jonathan looked at her, his eyes suddenly alert. "No, don't tell Mom . . ."

Candy nodded her head. "I bet I know — you got a 'D' on your English test, and you're afraid to say."

Jonathan looked at his sister. "Actually I got a B-plus! See?" He pulled a paper out of his pocket and waived it in front of her. "Miss Drew said it was almost an A-minus."

"Gee, Jonathan," said Candy, duly impressed, "Miss Drew is almost as hard to get a B out of as Miss Stoddard is."

"See what you know, Missie." Jonathan stated.

Candy gave her brother a look. "I don't get it, Jonathan, if no one is picking on you, and school is okay, then what's the matter?"

Jonathan started to open his mouth, then shut it again. Quickly, he looked around to make sure that there were no extra ears listening in on what he was about to say, and then he started to speak. "I messed up, Candy," he almost whispered.

"Messed up? What on earth are you talking about?" Candy asked, bewildered. "You just said the test . . ."

"Not the test." Jonathan looked down at the ground again. "The Captain. Captain Gregg."

"You and the Captain?" Candy was astounded. "You and the Captain had a fight? I don't believe it!"

"No . . ." Jonathan stopped his sibling. " . . . Not a fight . . . You've got it all wrong. Sisters!" He looked disgusted. "Everything is fine with the me and the Captain. We're best buddies. More than best. That's just it."

Candy shook her head again. "I don't get it."

"Remember when I told Mom that we should all do our own presents for the Captain's birthday?"

"Yeah . . ." Candy answered. "I've been working on my gift for the Captain since Mom told us about it."

"Thanks, loads." Jonathan kicked at the sand beneath his feet. "Just what I didn't need to hear. I don't have a thing for him."

"No present yet?" Candy was mystified. "But, from what you said, I . . ."

"Yeah, I know," Jonathan interrupted her. "I thought I had it all worked out."

"Had WHAT worked out, Jonathan?"

Jonathan inhaled and then exhaled slowly. "His PRESENT!"

"Oh," said Candy. "Well, what happened? How did you mess up?"

"Well, you know how I've been saving my allowance and everything?"

"Yeah . . ."

"Well, when Mom told us about the Captain's birthday and all, I was thinking I could use my savings and get him something really neat."

"That's nice, Jonathan, but . . . well, I mean, what happened?"

"I spent it." Jonathan sighed again.

"You spent the Captain's birthday present money?" Candy asked.

"No. I forgot I spent the money the day before!"

"The day before what?"

"The day before Mom told us about his birthday!"

"Ohhh . . ." Candy nodded, beginning to see the light.

"On my new book," Jonathan added. _"Don Speed and The Electronic Submarine."_

"Can't you take the book back and get your money and then buy the Captain something?" Candy asked, frowning. "Mom had to do that last week when she bought me that sweatshirt that didn't fit."

Jonathan shook his head again. "Ollie Wilkins said no refunds or exchanges on books," he said mournfully. "He told me when I bought it that he wasn't a library, and I better be sure. Besides . . ." he added. I spilled a little milk on it when I was reading it. Mr. Wilkins wouldn't take it back now anyway."

Candy nodded thoughtfully. "You DO have a problem."

"I don't know WHAT I am going to do!" Suddenly the eight-year-old found his voice with a vengeance. "I wasn't going to ask for anyone's help at all — we're _supposed_ to be doing our presents ourselves. And it was MY idea! Besides," he added, "Captain Gregg is my best friend. He's more than a best friend. He's like . . . " his voice trailed off. "I want the present to be from ME. I don't WANT to ask Mom for the money and then go buy a present. That would be cheating. Then the Captain's gift would be from Mom, not me. I want to do Captain Gregg's present myself." Candy nodded in agreement, but said nothing as Jonathan continued. "I even thought about maybe selling something of mine to Danny or Jeff to get the money, like my hand-tied hammock, or one of my ship models . . ." and he watched his sister's eyes grow wide. ". . . But I decided that was a bad idea. I started looking around our room last night and figured out that everything I like best is something that the Captain gave me, or was something we worked on together, like real fathers and sons do, and I just couldn't do it." Jonathan looked at Candy miserably. "Don't you see? It would be like selling a _part_ of him, and I can't do that. But what am I going to do?"

"Well, one thing I can tell you, Jonathan," said Candy, briskly, "Is even though you meant well thinking about selling your stuff, you never would have gotten away with it. Mom would notice your things were missing and . . ."

" . . . And Captain Gregg would have figured it out right away too," Jonathan finished his sister's sentence. "That was another reason I couldn't do it."

"You know, Jonathan, a gift doesn't always have to be a THING, like a new baseball, or perfume, or candy, or a model."

"What else is there?" Jonathan asked, furrowing his brows, but still interested in what his sister had to say.

"Well, it can be an . . . an action."

Jonathan scratched his head. "I don't get it."

"An action," Candy repeated. "You know, like, like promising Martha a month's worth of dishwashing, with no fussing, or promising Mom to wash the car once a week, or doing something for someone else that you don't HAVE to do. See what I'm getting at?"

"You're saying I should promise to wash the car or mow the lawn for Captain Gregg? He doesn't HAVE a car — but I guess he does have a lawn, unless it's really Claymore's lawn . . ."

Candy shook her head again and sighed. "No, Jonathan. Pay attention. I'm saying that if you don't have money to buy the Captain something, that you could DO something special for him. Write him a letter telling him about how much fun you have with him, or write him a story with just the two of you in it. Or just find something neat to do and do it just for him. Miss Stoddard says the best present you can give someone else is something using your thoughts and actions — a part of yourself."

"So it's not how much you spend on a gift for someone you love, but the thought you put into it?" Jonathan asked.

"Right," said Candy. "It's the time and love and thought you put behind it."

"Sort of the spirit of the gift," Jonathan added.

"That's it."

The warning bell signaling the start of afternoon classes rang then, interrupting their conversation. Candy jumped off her swing and started to give her brother an affectionate hug, but remembering that they were in the school play yard where he could be embarrassed by such actions, she slapped him on the back instead. "Come, on, Jonathan. Time to go." And she headed for the door.

A thoughtful look came to Jonathan's face, and together, brother and sister headed back to class.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Class, may I have your attention please?" Miss Drew asked as the children in Jonathan's second grade class descended on the library for their 'Library Day' that Monday afternoon. "Attention please!" Thirty pairs of eyes turned to the front of Schooner Bay Elementary School's library to where the teacher was standing, her hand raised for attention. "Now class. I wanted to let you know that our library period will last an extra half-hour today." Therese Drew watched the faces of her children for a moment with some amusement, observing their reaction. Half her students looked pleased at the news, and the other half dismayed. "Now then," she continued. "This extra time will not be used for reading, exactly, but rather to give you a chance to pick what story, poem or song you would like to memorize for your recitation or project for the Spring Pageant that the first and second graders are presenting on April 9th. Remember now, this presentation will be part of your grade for this year!"

Predictably, there was a groan from the children. "Children! Children!" the teacher continued over the hubbub. "Remember, we are in a library! Quietly now! Either start looking for ideas, or, if you would like, QUIETLY break into groups of up to three people and then start working on a group project." Quickly, the teacher glanced over the students in the room, looking for signs of panic. "If you need any ideas, please come and talk to me. I will be glad to help. It's what I'm here for."

Jonathan felt the queasiness in his stomach erupt into a full-fledged whirlpool and sighed. It was turning into a terrible day all around. The eight-year-old waited patiently as his teacher finished with Suzy and returned to her seat near the front of the library. How he hated having to ask for help! But his mind was a blank. First finding a present for the Captain, and now this! Nothing seemed to be going right! Suddenly, he realized Miss Drew was speaking to him.

"Jonathan?" she asked kindly, "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Uhm, no . . . well, maybe yes . . ." the boy stammered, unsure of himself.

"So many great possibilities, you can't make up your mind, Hmm?" Miss Drew smiled. "I thought maybe you might be doing something with Kyle or Jimmy. You know, a group project," she asked. "You're not doing something together?"

"No, not this time," Jonathan explained. "They're doing _Sarasponda_ — you know, that camp song? It's a round . . ."

"And it only has two parts, right?" Therese Drew looked at the little boy and then gazed around the room where her students all seemed to be busily discussing their projects. "Everyone seems to be pretty well paired up. Well except for Suzy. She's found a poem she is going to recite by herself: Robert Lewis Stephenson's, _The Land_ _of Counterpane._ You like poetry, don't you, Jonathan?"

"Yes," he nodded. "I started really liking it after that other assignment you gave us. Poetry is kind of like singing, without the music. And I know that one Suzy is doing. I wish I had thought of it first."

"Plenty of poems to go around!" Miss Drew gave the boy another encouraging smile. "Tell me, Jonathan, what do you like to read? I mean when you aren't trying to think about school pageants and recitations?"

"Oh, that's easy." The boy grinned. "Ships and sailing and anything else having to do with them." He frowned. "But the only two poems I can think of that have ships in them are _The Owl and the Pussycat_, and _Wynken, Blynken and Nod._ Mom used to read us to sleep with those poems. She still does sometimes!"

Miss Drew nodded. "Your mother is a very smart woman. I think one of the most valuable gifts you can give is to teach someone to love to read. It reminds me of something Strickland Gillilan wrote in _The Reading Mother_ before you were born." Softly she recited:

"_**You may have tangible wealth untold;**_

_**Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold.**_

**_Richer than I you can never be _—**

_**I had a Mother who read to me."**_

_Captain Gregg reads to me, too . . . _Jonathan thought, remembering his poetry assignment the previous fall and the help the Captain had given him. "But . . . are there more grownup sea poems?" he asked his teacher, scratching his head once more. "Those other two are nice, but I'm kind of old for them . . ."

Therese Drew hid her smile, seeing how grown-up Jonathan was trying to be. "Of course there are! I think I have just the book for you!" Deftly, she reached into her own briefcase and pulled out a blue and gold-bound volume, and placed it in Jonathan's hands. "Here . . ." she said. "What you want is almost assuredly right in here." She smiled at the boy encouragingly. "This is my favorite book of sea poetry. It has a little of everything in it. I brought it with me today, just in case someone might need it. I'm sure you can find something in there! I'll lend it to you for the rest of the afternoon. I bet you five cents you will be back in an hour with a poem to recite!"

"Thanks, Miss Drew!" Jonathan said, taking the book. He smiled his first real smile in two days and headed for a window seat in a quiet corner of the library.

Sure enough, within a half-hour Jonathan Muir was back. "This one," he pointed to a page in the book, his eyes shining. "This is the one I want to do."

His teacher beamed at him. "Excellent choice, Jonathan! I couldn't have picked a better one!" And she wrote his name and the poem on the list in front of her. "You're sure now? Once you've picked, I don't want you changing your mind."

Jonathan nodded. "Absolutely sure. It's perfect! Exactly what I want."

"Very well." Miss Drew nodded. "This is what you will be doing in the pageant next week."

Jonathan nodded. "I'll practice really hard, Miss Drew. I should be better than last year when I read my history essay. Mom had to keep reminding me to look up from my paper — you know, look at the audience more." And he grinned, "I didn't get really good at using my hands, like Martha said, but that part came out all right."

Jonathan's teacher gave him another encouraging look. "Well, you shouldn't have a problem with gestures — using them or not, I mean, once you have the poem memorized."

"MEMORIZED?" Jonathan gasped, dumfounded. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Jonathan, I do ask that all recitation pieces be memorized," his teacher said. "I know I said that! Maybe you missed it? It's only fair! The children who are singing songs, or dancing and such certainly have to memorize their parts! And really . . ." she paused, and then continued thoughtfully. "As you said, that's what a poem really is — a song with no music. You've learned lots of songs by heart, haven't you? From the radio? Or at church, or in music class?"

Jonathan gulped, and nodded.

"Well, this won't be that bad really!" and she patted him on the shoulder. "You've made a beautiful choice here, and you are going to do splendidly, I just know it." She pointed to a vacant seat and handed him back the poetry book. "Now you go ahead and write out the poem. Make it nice and neat. You want to make sure you have it copied down correctly! You should have time to get it done before the bell rings, all right?"

Jonathan nodded again, and, taking the book, and then his seat, he carefully started to copy the poem, wondering what he had let himself in for.

_**April 7, 1970 - Tuesday**_

"Excuse me, Madam, may I have a word with you?" The spirit of Gull Cottage materialized into the master cabin where Carolyn was typing away.

"Only if it's a very QUICK word, Daniel. I sort of have my hands full here," Carolyn replied. "I need to get this blasted article finished. The deadline is tomorrow — Tonight really! It has to be in the mail tomorrow morning . . ." But she smiled at the ghost and stopped typing, and looked up at him from her seat, expectantly.

"I suppose it can wait . . . I am sorry to have bothered you." Captain Gregg said as he started to vanish, but Carolyn held up a hand.

"That's all right. I've already stopped . . . I really need a break anyway. What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to ask . . ." and the spirit paused again.

"Yes, Daniel?" Carolyn responded, giving the seafarer a quizzical look. Absentmindedly, she inserted a fresh sheet of paper into her typewriter and then waited for him to speak.

"I was just wondering if you are keeping something from me, concerning Jonathan."

"Keeping something from you?" she asked, amazed and bewildered at the same time. "And how, Daniel, am I supposed to do that? You know I can't keep much of anything from you for long." Carolyn gave Daniel a worried glance. "What makes you think something is wrong with Jonathan?"

"He's just been acting a bit strangely the last week or so, that's all," the Captain said, opening the French doors and looking out toward the sea.

"Strangely?" Carolyn rose from her seat and followed the spirit out onto the balcony. "How so, Daniel?"

"Oh, little things, I suppose you could say," the sea captain answered, tugging his ear. "Small things. If I didn't know the lad so well, I would swear there is something he is keeping from us — or at least, perhaps, from me."

Carolyn bit her lower lip, wondering if her son's actions had anything to do with the party they had planned for the following night. "Little things, Daniel? Like what?"

The mariner took a deep breath and started to speak in a hurt tone: "Well, he has been avoiding me. Twice now, we were supposed to meet in the wheelhouse and work on his model of the Cutty Sark, and twice I have waited for him and he hasn't shown up when promised. It's not like him. It just seems he's been very distracted lately — off in his own world somewhere."

"Well, when he didn't show up, did you go look for him?" Carolyn asked quietly, mentally keeping her fingers crossed.

"Not the first time, no, but the second time I did," he answered, in a low tone. "When I found him, he told me he 'just forgot,' but when I pressed him for a reason why, he only said he had homework to do . . . "

"And?" Carolyn queried again, knowing that Jonathan's homework had actually been rather light the previous week, and she suspected again what kind of secret the boy was keeping.

"And, when I offered to help him with his assignments, the lad only said "No thanks, Captain, I'd rather do it myself," and made some kind of excuse about having to brush Scruffy, and took off."

"And?" she pressed, wondering what else the spirit had to say — he looked so troubled! "Well, I found out later, Madam, that Jonathan didn't brush Scruffy at all, but rather he left for the beach, by himself, and he didn't come back until dinnertime. Honestly, Carolyn . . ." here Daniel stopped again, looking even more concerned, "I think the lad is angry with me, or at the very least, avoiding me, and for the life of me, I cannot think of a reason he would have for either!"

"Oh, Daniel . . ." Carolyn said softly, standing next to him, "I'm sure it's nothing! You know how he feels about you! He loves you. Honestly, I think he tells you more than he tells me . . ." and suddenly another thought occurred to her. "You didn't follow him to the beach? Invisibly, I mean? You could have done that, you know — "

"Blast it, Madam!" The spirit looked deeply affronted. "Do you honestly think I would spy on you, or your children? Follow you? Watch you without your knowledge?"

"Well . . ." Carolyn paused, "There's spying, and there's 'looking out for our own worst instincts,' I think you said once," and she gave him a searching look. "I know you know what I mean!"

"Yes, Madam," the seaman smiled down at her. "I do. BUT . . . I did NOT follow the boy," the Captain answered, firmly, "Although I must admit, I have been tempted to more than once this last week." And he gave a rueful look. Hesitatingly, he added, "Actually, I think, perhaps, Jonathan is starting to outgrow me. You know, perhaps become more interested in school and other hobbies, and his friends and his friend's fathers — much more important things than hanging around an old ghost, who can only teach him about things that were important a hundred years ago. Perhaps it is for the best all around . . ."

_"Daniel!"_ Carolyn turned and faced the spirit, astonishment in her eyes. "You know that's not true! Jonathan is NOT outgrowing you! Jonathan loves you — and Candy and Martha do too, I might add, and I know you know how I . . ." she broke off, astounded at what she had almost blurted out. "I'm sure whatever it is that MAY be bothering Jonathan is only temporary — just something he needs to work through. He IS growing up, Captain, and yes, feeling a need to figure things out by himself, when he can, but I know, and I hope YOU know, you can trust him, and KNOW he will be coming to you any time to tell you all about it!"

"I pray you are right, my dear," the Captain answered, his eyes filled with worry, and he raised his index finger. "I'll give him one more day — and if he doesn't tell me what is blasted bothering him, I will have something to say about it!" With that, Captain Gregg disappeared.

Sensing that the spirit had truly gone, Carolyn Muir came back in from the balcony, returned to her desk, opened the drawer, peeked inside and then closed it again — satisfied that the Captain had not figured out HER secret.

_**April 8, 1970 – Wednesday**_

"I am so pleased you could join me for Madeira this afternoon," said Daniel Gregg as he raised his wineglass to Carolyn's. "You look enchanting, my dear. Is that a new outfit? I don't recall ever having seen you wear it before. You DO look lovely."

Carolyn Muir glanced down at the cream-colored silk blouse and chocolate brown, mid-length corduroy skirt she was wearing and gazed back at the seaman. "Thank-you Daniel! I'm glad you like it," she answered. "I found it in town this morning when I went in to mail my story." And she took another sip of Madeira. "It was even on sale. I also want to thank you for moving our Madeira Tuesday to Wednesday. I'm sorry I couldn't change my deadline! Moving our day was most considerate of you."

The seaman lowered his head in a slight bow. "No trouble at all, my dear. ANY afternoon spent with you is a pleasure! So tell me . . ." he paused a moment. "Your story . . . You are pleased with it then?"

Carolyn nodded. "As much as I usually am, I suppose. It never fails though. There is always something I wish I could go back and change between the time I submit it and when it's published, but that's a standard thing, for me anyway!" and she grinned. "I'm looking forward to being able to take this evening off. Maybe tomorrow we can spend some time working on your memoirs. I wish I could be two people sometimes . . . or three even."

The seaman gave the beautiful woman before him a questioning look. "And why would that be pray?"

"Oh, just in general it could come in handy!" she explained. "One of me to write the bread and butter articles I need to pay the bills, another me to be able to work exclusively on your memoirs, or my 'great American novel,' and still another me that could spend more time with my children and you. You know, every woman's wish!" And she took another sip of wine and smiled at her companion. "I'm glad the story is finished though. It's been something of a bear to research, even for fiction! It's nice to have this one out of the way, to tell you the truth. So Daniel, by means of celebrating, would you care to join the family for dinner tonight?"

"I would like that very much indeed Madam!" Carolyn could almost see Daniel's face glowing. "Are you sure there will be enough to eat if I join you?"

"Martha is making chicken in a pot," Carolyn answered. "She found a good price on the chicken, so she cooked two; enough for an extra person, that's you, plus leftovers. Martha wanted me to ask you for dinner also. You know how she likes cooking for a man! And of course Candy and Jonathan love it when you join us for dinner."

"I would be delighted, my dear," The Captain smiled. "What time should I come, is it formal, and should I bring anything?"

"Six o'clock, as formal as you want to be, and just yourself," Carolyn laughed. "I'll tell the crew — they'll be very happy!" Carolyn put her empty wineglass down on the table beside her. "Speaking of happy, you seem in a better frame of mind all the way around this afternoon. Have you had a chance to talk to Jonathan? About what's been going on between the two of you the last week or so, I mean?"

"I was going to talk to him when he came home from school," the Captain answered. "But I think I am going to let it wait for the time being after all. When your friend Mrs. Coburn dropped them off this afternoon, the first thing the lad did was race up to the wheelhouse to tell me about the A-minus he received on his book report on Paul Bunyan. Then he insisted on reading the paper to me. It's very good."

"Then things are back to normal?" Carolyn asked as she started to rise from her seat.

"I'm not sure if "normal" is exactly the right word," said the Captain thoughtfully. "But Jonathan isn't avoiding me any longer, so I suppose that's a step in the right direction. I must admit though, this week has been more than puzzling. I would still like to know what, as the current phrase puts it, has been bugging him!"

"I'll try to talk to him some time in the next day or so," Carolyn answered, looking up at the seaman. "That is, if he doesn't say something to me first. Six o'clock for dinner then?"

"Six o'clock, it is, my dear. Thank-you again for this afternoon," the seaman responded, and vanished.

Dinner that evening was a noisy, happy affair. Along with chicken in a pot, Martha had made a green salad, steamed broccoli, and homemade dinner rolls. In spite of being told not to bring anything, Daniel Gregg materialized in the living room promptly at six p.m. in full dress uniform, bearing a very old bottle of wine from his private stock, and three bouquets of flowers, procured from where, he wasn't telling, for Carolyn, Martha and Candy. Conversation at the dinner table was happy and varied — running the gamut from Martha's critique of the movie she and Ed had seen the night before, to Candy's latest history assignment, and a rundown on the story Carolyn had just finished. Finally, no one could eat another bite.

"You better have saved some room for my dessert!" Martha said with a sniff as the family pushed themselves away from the table, all declaring that they had all eaten too much. "I didn't bake a cake just to have it ignored, you know!"

"How about a break, Martha?" Carolyn asked, moaning slightly. "I never should have had that second helping!"

"I can handle that," the housekeeper replied gruffly. "Listen, why don't you and the Captain go work off some of this dinner with a walk? Jonathan and Candy can help me clean up a little and then we'll have dessert, okay? Okay kids?"

Candy and Jonathan nodded, agreeably.

The seaman looked at Carolyn, and then back to the housekeeper. "That sounds like a marvelous idea to me, but I hate to see you have to stay behind, Martha. Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Not a bit, Captain. It's MY way of working off dinner! I'll take you up on your offer of help another time however — maybe when Spring cleaning comes around!" and she winked at him. "In the meantime, you two go ahead. Take your time. I'll need at least half an hour to forty-five minutes to get everything cleaned up, all right?"

"Thank-you for the walk, Daniel!" Carolyn said as they returned to the front porch of Gull Cottage forty-five minutes later. "It is lovely out tonight, isn't it?"

"I prefer the company over the view, my dear, but yes, it is beautiful," the Captain replied. "It's been a wonderful evening and I thank you, Dear Lady."

"You're welcome, Captain!" Carolyn answered, her eyes shining. For a moment the two gazed into each other's eyes, both wishing for another way the walk could end, if things were different, but finally she turned, and slowly opened the front door. "We better get inside," she murmured. "There's still dessert, and the children do have school tomorrow . . ."

"Aye, that we should," the Captain answered with a sigh.

"Martha? Jonathan? Candy? Carolyn called from the foyer. "We're back!"

"We're in here in the living room, Mrs. Muir!" Martha called, "Come on in!"

The familiar chords of music could be heard on the piano as Carolyn and Captain Gregg reached the doorway of the living room.

"Happy birthday, Captain!" Candy, Jonathan and Martha were cheering, blowing horns and throwing confetti and everyone was smiling to beat the band.

"Surprise! Surprise!" Martha added. "Gotcha, you old sea-dog you! Happy birthday, and many happy returns!" and she tooted the horn she was holding again.

Daniel Gregg looked around the festively decorated room, the cake on the table, and the gifts surrounding the cake and then back to Carolyn, obviously confused. "Birthday?" He questioned, walking toward the table, where the cake was, and then he nodded. "I see. I couldn't remember when my birthday was, so you invented a day . . ."

"No, Daniel!" Carolyn stopped him and picked up a small package off the table, and handed it to the seaman. "Here, open this. I think it will explain everything." Silently, Daniel turned the package over and over in his hands. "Well, go on!" she urged. It won't bite!"

Silently Captain Gregg opened the package. "My . . . my birth certificate?" he asked, incredulously, looking at the carefully framed document, "Why, this is fantastic!"

"Mommy found it!" Candy chimed in. "Claymore had it in his basement!"

Quickly, Carolyn and the children told Daniel the story of finding the document. "Figures, huh, Captain?" Jonathan added. "You keep telling me Claymore can't find his ars ... "

_"Jonathan!"_ Carolyn interrupted him hastily, giving the seaman an 'I'll talk to you about this later,' look. "Let's open some more presents, shall we?"

"Open mine next, Captain!" Candy handed him a large flat package. "I hope you like it! It took me almost two weeks to get it together!"

Slowly the seaman removed the wrapping paper covering the gift. "Why, Candy!" he said slowly, "This is marvelous — a drawing! A three-masted schooner in full sail! It looks so real, I feel like I could hop on board her right now!" And he reached to touch one of the sails. "Where on earth did you find this?"

"Whoa, Captain!" Candy said quickly. "Don't touch it, you might smudge it. I wouldn't do that for another two hours, at least. The fixative may not be quite dry yet."

"Fixative?" the seaman inquired curiously.

"Oh, it's this spray stuff you spray on charcoal drawings so they don't smear," Candy answered. "Miss Crowley, that's my art teacher, told me to spray it and let it set for four hours, but I was running late getting it done — it's only been drying for two hours."

"You drew this?" Oh, my dear!" The Captain turned and looked at the little girl in astonishment. "For me? I'm overwhelmed! What a glorious piece of work!"

"Miss Crowley helped me mat it," Candy explained. "But I didn't have enough left in my piggy bank to get it framed. You think you have a frame that will fit somewhere up in your wheelhouse, Captain?" The little girl looked anxious.

"If Captain Gregg doesn't, I'm sure I can work something out," Carolyn assured her. "This is beautiful, Candy. You did a great job!"

"It's cool, Candy," added Jonathan. "Where are you going to hang it, Captain?"

"I'll have to think about that!" The Captain's eyes were shining. "I would hang it in my wheelhouse, but I think your mother would rather see it hanging down here in the living room. We will have to see."

"My turn!" said Martha, handing Captain Gregg a medium-sized package. "I'm so glad I am included in THIS birthday party!"

"I am also, Martha," the seaman responded, and eagerly, he pulled away the wrapping paper. "Brandy?" he asked, holding up the bottle. "Nice! Very nice! I shall expect you to join me for a drink before the week is over, Martha. But . . ." and he looked puzzled again as he held up a blank three by five recipe card. "What is this, pray?"

"Merely a request," Martha chuckled. "For your Willow Bark Golden Elixir recipe!" and the seaman shot her a sheepish look. "Jonathan spilled the beans to me a few weeks ago that YOU were the one responsible for that great vegetable broth I made when Mrs. Muir was sick with the virus X last year, and that brandy 'puts a keel under it,' I believe he said! Would you please, Captain?"

"Most certainly, my good woman!" Daniel laughed heartily. "I always did mean to tell you about that!"

Martha waved away his comment. "No problem, Captain! But I WILL hold you to it! You're up next, Jonathan! Where's your present for the Captain?"

"Jonathan handed the seaman a small package. "Here, Captain! I made these myself. Fishing lures!" he said, as the seaman opened the package. "I made em' by hand. You said you never have enough, and I thought that maybe we could go fishing this weekend. We haven't been in a while."

"These are wonderful, lad!" the Captain answered slowly. "Wonderful! And I am looking forward to going fishing with you — I've missed it this past week!" and he looked at the boy carefully. "So you haven't grown tired of me yet, eh?"

"Golly, no, Captain!" Jonathan answered in surprise. "Why would you think that?"

"Well, Jonathan, I . . ." the seaman tugged his ear, doubtfully. "It's just that . . . that is, never mind. Any time, Jonathan! Any time you say."

"Here, Daniel," said Carolyn, handing the spirit another package. "Actually, this gift rightfully belongs to you already — I just thought it would be fun to wrap it. This part however . . ." She tapped gently on another present, still sitting on her lap, " . . . Is from me."

"Open it, Captain!" Candy urged.

"Well glory be!" he laughed as he opened the gift. "Oh my! I do remember this chest! And what's this inside? My last log book! How many times have I torn my wheelhouse apart looking for this? And Aunt Ida's letters! And our family Bible! This is marvelous! Marvelous!"

"Everything was in there all the time!" Jonathan grinned. "Claymore didn't even know what was inside it until he found it a couple of weeks ago!"

The seaman turned to Carolyn. "And this is where you found my birth certificate?"

Carolyn nodded. "Tucked inside the Bible. I haven't read either the logbook or the letters yet, Daniel. I thought perhaps we could look at them in a day or so, and celebrate with this." And she handed the seaman his second package.

Quickly the Captain pulled back the paper covering the gift and opened the large, ornately carved wooden box. Lifting the lid and looking inside the satin-lined box, he silently held up two crystal wineglasses and then, after sitting them down on the coffee table in front of him, he pulled out a bottle of Madeira.

"Leecock, 1925 . . ." he said softly. "This is a very fine brand, my dear. "And these glasses! Waterford crystal, aren't they? They're stunning. Absolutely stunning — and this box! The carving on it! A house — How like Gull Cottage it is! And there's a monkey-puzzle tree carved on the lid too! Where in the name of the seven seas did you find this?"

"Last week, in a little shop in Pripet," Carolyn answered. "When I had to go up for that story interview, remember? And in case you are worried, no, I didn't spend a fortune on it. There was a bunch of whatnot boxes there, all on a table. This one just kind of reached out and grabbed my hand. The minute I saw it, I knew you had to have it. I bought it, and then I found the glasses and the Madeira a couple of days later."

"It's beautiful, Dear Lady," the seaman said huskily, and he gazed around the room at his family. "What a wonderful surprise this evening has been! Thanks to all of you, I not only have received my BIRTHDAY for my birthday, but some truly magnificent gifts . . . this has been an evening I shall never forget!"

"The box is really cool, Mom," commented Jonathan. "Almost like it was made for the Captain." He paused. "Hey, Captain Gregg! Are you ready for your birthday cake now?"

"Most assuredly, lad!" the seaman said, and turned to Martha. "I trust I have you to thank for the cake, Martha!"

"Yup." Martha grinned. "And I must tell you, it was a challenge. Keeping it a secret, I mean! Every time you popped into the kitchen, I was sure you had figured out what was going on. By the way . . ." She winked at the seaman, I decided not to put one hundred and forty-five candles on it! Figured the last thing we needed was another fire at Gull Cottage!" Quickly the housekeeper lit the candles. "Mrs. Muir? Jonathan? Candy? Ready! One more time!"

_**Happy birthday, Captain! Happy, happy, birthday!**_

"First slice for you!" Carolyn was beaming as, a few minutes later; she cut a piece of the double-chocolate cake, added a scoop of vanilla ice cream and handed it to the Captain. "You really didn't suspect anything, Daniel?"

"Not a clue!" The seaman shook his head as he took the cake from Carolyn's hand. "You've gone to so much trouble over today. I thank you all so much! In retrospect, of course, I can now understand some of the things that have been going on around Gull Cottage the last week! Candy's extra homework, your two drives up to Pripet, Martha's shopping trip in town yesterday, not her normal day, Jonathan's — " He stopped for a moment. "That reminds me, Jonathan, what do you say you and I go fishing tomorrow after you get home from school?"

"Uhm, can we make it Friday, instead, Captain? I can't make it tomorrow."

Carolyn looked at him, a bit surprised. Her son's behavior toward the Captain was supposed to be a thing of the past! "Why not, Jonathan? Do you have something planned tomorrow? More homework? Plans with Jimmy and Kyle?"

"Oh, no, Mom, I . . . I guess I forgot to tell you. The Spring Pageant is tomorrow evening. I have to stay after school and rehearse with the other kids. It starts at six." And the boy looked at the housekeeper and then at the seaman. "That reminds me, Martha, can you pack me an extra sandwich and dessert in my lunch tomorrow? Miss Drew wants all the kids to have something extra to eat so we don't get hungry before the show. I'm sorry about not asking earlier, I just forgot."

"Me too, Martha?" Candy turned to the older woman. "An extra sandwich and desert for me too? Maybe some more of the Captain's cake? I'm sorry for not saying anything until now too, but Miss Stoddard only asked me this afternoon if I could fill in for Penelope. Penny was supposed to be the curtain rope puller for the show so all the kids in the first and second grades don't have to take turns doing it, and get distracted, but she came down with chicken pox yesterday. She'll be out of school the rest of the week." Martha and Carolyn nodded their agreements, and both the children looked at the seaman.

"You'll come and see the pageant too, won't you, Captain Gregg? It wouldn't seem right without you there. You can come and sit with Mom and Martha — please?" Jonathan asked, hopefully.

The Captain grinned. His ship was back on a steady course! "Absolutely, Jonathan! I wouldn't miss it for the world!" The seaman looked around at his family. "What a truly wonderful evening this has been! Now, how about another piece of that cake?"

_**April 9, 1070 – Thursday**_

"How long is this blasted pageant supposed to last?" Daniel Gregg asked the following evening. "It feels like it's been going on forever!"

Carolyn snickered softly and turned to the seaman who was standing next to her in the back of the crowded Schooner Bay Theater. Speaking in a low tone so her voice didn't carry, she said, "You sound anxious, Daniel! I'm surprised at you! A LONG time? What about that out-of-time status you were talking about?" Carolyn shifted her feet. The theater had filled up quickly, and there was not a seat to be had by the time she and Martha had dropped off Candy and Jonathan, and set up the refreshments for intermission that came between the first and second grade's performances.

"My dear Carolyn, twenty-two choruses of _There's a Hole in the Bottom of the Sea_ and _Polly Wolly Doodle_ can stretch even MY patience to the limit . . . " the seaman smiled as Gregory Gilbert and Joe Jackson started their recitation of _The Duel, _by Eugene Field:

"_**The gingham dog and the calico cat**_

_**Side by side on the table sat;**_

_**T'was half-past twelve, and (what do you think!)**_

_**Nor one nor t'other had slept a wink!"**_

" . . . And make time stretch endlessly, even for me!" he continued.

Carolyn grinned at him. "Enjoy it while you can, Captain! Whether you want to admit it or not, time passes quickly, at least where children are concerned! I can remember so clearly the day both Jonathan and Candy were born! Just look at them now! We need to enjoy things like this. It won't be long before the kids get more sophisticated, and seeing pageants like this will be a thing of the past."

"I know, my dear, I know!" and the seaman looked toward the stage. "I must admit, some of the recitations, like this one, for instance, have been quite good!"

_"Shh!"_ Came Martha's voice who was standing on Carolyn's other side. "I love this poem!"

"Madam." The mariner directed his silky voice to the housekeeper. "How many times do I need to remind you that no one can see or hear me unless I wish it?"

"Captain, I can hear you, and that's what matters! Now hush!"

"As you wish, my good woman."

"_**The Goops they lick their fingers,**_

_**And the Goops they lick their knives,**_

**_They spill their broth on the tablecloth _—**

_**Oh, They lead disgusting lives!"**_

"Miss Drew has really done a very good job with the children," the Captain commented, as still another act started. "I must say, her selections have been unique to say the least! What on earth inspired her to pick this one, for instance? It's really rather clever."

"Jonathan mentioned during our drive to school this morning that the students all had to make their own selections," Carolyn whispered again, hoping that anyone who might overhear her would assume she was talking to her housekeeper. "Look — " She made a slight gesture toward the stage, where the next act was entering. "There's Jimmy and Kyle! I assumed Jonathan was doing something with them? Where is he?"

Jimmy and Kyle launched into _Sarasponda_, an old camp song.

"Do you want me to go look for Jonathan, my dear?" Daniel asked her; "Just to make sure everything is all right?"

Carolyn shook her head. "No, Daniel. You better not. I'm sure everything is fine, and Jonathan would hate it if we checked up on him and it turned out nothing was wrong."

"Very well!" and the seaman let out a low growl, rocked on his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. "A little longer then! And why, may I ask, Madam, did that confounded teacher put Jonathan's recitation so late in this blasted pageant to begin with?"

"Honestly, Daniel!" Carolyn chortled again. "You are sounding more nervous every minute! Jonathan has been in these pageants before! And what about the seaman's benefit two months ago? The children did fine! Stop worrying!"

"I can worry if I want to," the seaman stated. "Besides, you know perfectly well I was up there helping the children! I can't do that this time! Where is Jonathan? It's getting blasted late . . ." Sulking, Daniel looked toward the stage once more as Sue and Sally Peters finished Paul Simon's, _The Sound of Silence._

"Lovely song," Martha commented, shifting from one foot to another. "I must admit, Mrs. Muir, I'm getting a little anxious too! When do you suppose, is Jonathan going to be on?"

"Wait a minute," Carolyn said, turning back to the stage. "I think this is it!"

"And now, ladies' and gentlemen," Therese Drew announced, gesturing to the wings. "Our last act for the evening. Jonathan Muir. Jonathan?"

Slowly, Jonathan entered and made his way to the center of the stage and adjusted the microphone to his level, creating a small screech. The audience winced.

"Oops, sorry!" Jonathan apologized. "I'd like to do . . . that is, my poem is . . ."

Daniel Gregg clenched his fists at his sides, and Carolyn crossed her fingers. _Has Jonathan frozen right there on stage? Would he . . .?_ Daniel's thoughts mingled with her own. _Oh, please . . ._

Jonathan began to speak again. "This poem is for my . . . my father, for his birthday, which was really yesterday. I'm sorry I'm late."

"Birthday?" Carolyn whispered, questioningly. "Robert's birthday wasn't in April, it's — "

The boy looked straight out to the audience, toward where he _knew_ his family was watching, and his face was shining. _"'Sea Fever,' _By John Masefield."

"Daniel!" Suddenly the significance of the title of the piece hit Carolyn. "Daniel! The poem! It's for_you!"_

_**"I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,**_

_**And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,**_

_**And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,**_

_**And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking."**_

_"Father?"_ Daniel murmured, almost to himself.

"Father." Carolyn said in a low voice, and nodded. "He isn't talking about Robert, that's for sure! You ARE Jonathan's father, as far as he is concerned, Daniel. I think you should know that. I HOPE you know that."

Jonathan began the second verse:

"_**I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide**_

_**Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;**_

_**And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,**_

_**And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying."**_

"I simply cannot believe this . . ." Daniel Gregg said humbly. "I thought Jonathan was outgrowing me . . ."

"Guess you thought wrong," commented Martha, gruffly. "You okay, Captain?"

_"Shh,"_ was his only comment, and Jonathan started the third stanza:

**"_I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,_**

_**To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;**_

_**And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover**_

_**And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over."**_

There was a beat and several moments of silence as Jonathan's poem ended, and then the theater erupted in noise — applause — for Jonathan and all the other children. After Jonathan's bow, all the performers came out on stage and took another group bow, the lights came up in the house, and the parents started making their way to the stage to find their offspring.

"Lovely dedication." Elvira Grover had stopped and tapped Carolyn on the shoulder. "You must be so proud of Jonathan! What a wonderful way to honor one's father! Beautiful, just beautiful!" and the older woman wiped a tear from her eye and moved on.

"I think Jonathan is a hit, Daniel!" Carolyn commented to the seaman, still standing beside her. "I'm sorry everyone in Schooner Bay thinks Jonathan means Robert, and not you . . ."

"Quite all right, Dear Lady!" The seafarer gave her a wide smile. "I know the lad meant the poem for me, and that's all that counts — and now, tonight, I finally _really_ understand the reason for Jonathan's behavior this last week. He _hasn't_ been trying to avoid me, and he's _not_ outgrowing me. He was learning the poem! Madam, the boy is a genius! A genius!" This is the best birthday I have had in one hundred and forty five years!" Quickly, the spirit looked around the still-crowded auditorium. "Blast it, where is he? Fear not, my dear, I shall find him." And he disappeared.

Martha chuckled and turned to her employer. "It HAS been a very happy birthday for the old goat, hasn't it, Mrs. Muir?" And Carolyn nodded. "Well, it's about time, that's all I can say!" Candy ran up to meet them, giving first her mother and then the housekeeper a hug.

The seaman materialized in the hall in the backstage of the auditorium where Jonathan was gathering up his sweater and schoolbooks, and was alone for a moment before meeting Carolyn, Martha and Candy.

"Hello, Jonathan."

"Hey, Captain!" Jonathan turned to the seaman. "Did you see me? Did you see me do your poem?"

"I saw you, lad," Daniel replied gruffly, smiling with tear-filled eyes down at the boy. "I saw you. I watched you do the whole piece. Jonathan I . . . I don't quite know what to say . . ."

"So did I do okay?" the boy asked, looking up into his hero's face. " Did ya like it?"

"Oh, Jonathan." The seafarer's voice did break then. "Did I like it? _Like it?_ Jonathan, lad, your recitation . . . it was fantastic. You were superb. I loved every moment of it. And what you said beforehand . . . I cannot begin to tell you how much that means to me. I — "

"I'm sorry I couldn't do the poem yesterday, for the actual day of your birthday, I mean." Jonathan stopped him again. "I wanted to. That would have been REALLY neat."

"My boy, what you did, what you said, WAS 'really neat'." And the seaman swallowed hard.

"You know, Captain, I made the fishing lures to kinda fool you." Jonathan explained. "You don't really have to use them, if you don't want to. _Sea Fever_ was your REAL birthday present."

"Oh, no lad — " And Jonathan Muir felt the feather-light touch of Daniel Gregg's hand on his shoulder. "My REAL birthday present is YOU . . . as my son."

_END_

_**Special thank-you's to the literary talents of John Masefield (Sea Fever), Strickland Gillilan (The Reading Mother), Paul Simon (The Sound of Silence), Eugene Field (The Duel), and Frank Gelett Burgess (The Goops). These thank-you's are at the end of my story because I didn't want the reader to know what poem Jonathan picked until the end.**_


End file.
